Finding Charlie Brown
by Nothing Really Specific
Summary: Panchito Pistoles is like another uncle to Huey, Dewey, and Louie. When the kids get emotionally and physically scarred for life and Donald is left wounded, Panchito submits to the father position and moves to settle all scores with the demons that attacked his family. Featuring: Panchito, Lumiere, Donald, Huey, Dewey, Louie, OC. Intended to be unfinished (M: Violence and Language)
1. Chapter 1

**Finding Charlie Brown**

**Prologue: The Parting of Two Friends**

**Disney World, Main Street, USA**

The streetlamp flickered like a firefly, the night sky was starless. The world was sleeping. The shops were closed, the old wooden posts and signs creaked, having idle conversations about when they used to be marvels of engineering. The road, which was made of cobblestone, shivered as the wind blew cold wind from the north. The only thing that seemed to be alive was the statue in the middle of walkway, just in front of the Cinderella's Castle. Walt's never fading smile was being to show age, just like the man himself, and Mickey was no longer a youthful personification, but a shadow of his former self. His soul was gone. There was nothing left of him that screamed optimistic mascot. Instead there was an empty shell, that now wore a business suit and tie, holding a briefcase.

Mr. Joseph McCarthy stood in front of the statue in his business suit. His face looked sleep deprived, but he got eight hours of sleep each night, he was just an old. Seventy-three. He placed his hand on Mickey's shoulder, shivering a little at the unexpected cold copper. Mr. Joseph breathed in, as if absorbing some kind of energy or life force, but he just took a breath. He closed his eyes as he heard approaching footsteps. "I'm sorry." McCarthy said. "I am so sorry, but I can't do this anymore." The footsteps stopped, McCarthy turned and in front of him, in a trench coat, pretending to be somebody he wasn't was a rooster. Panchito Pistoles. He was wearing a white button up shirt and black dress pants, as if he were doing business. The trench coat, which was a dark brown, shielded the wind.

The rooster nodded. "Here," McCarthy said, handing him the briefcase. "everything you need is in here." Panchito held the briefcase in his arms as if it were a sacred child who needed all the comfort in the world. He looked up at Joseph, his eyes filled with regret, as if he had caused all of the world's problems. "Will I ever see you again mi amigo?" Joseph shook his head. He was voiceless in the mouth, but his heart wept and screamed in anguish. Here was someone who always believed that he could do anything, asking if he would ever see him again. Here was the one person who stopped by everyday at precisely three o'clock every afternoon to have a late lunch, a cup of coffee, and a cigar, because he wanted to spend some time with him. Here was his oldest friend, as far as cartoons go, holding his briefcase standing in a ridiculous trench coat with the saddest eyes in the world. Joseph sighed. "I'm afraid you're going to have to finish this." He paused. Mr. McCarthy looked up at the stars, who looked back on him with stern looks and glances that told him to press on with his mission. "Senor," Panchito said, putting the briefcase down and grabbing Joseph's hand, "thanks for having coffee with me." The rooster smiled, weakly and sorrowfully, as if the whole world were ending and this was the last person he would ever see. Joseph pulled away from the gesture and embraced his friend instead. "Keep the pot warm for me." Joseph said. He let go, slowly, perhaps it was his age, or perhaps he wanted to linger to the past.

"Where will you go?" Panchito asked, his eyes starting to slowly form tears. "Anyplace but here." Joseph said as he slowly walked away down the street that used to be so colorful, so lively, now stood dark and dead before him, and like everything else, a shell of former hope and glory.

Joseph didn't even bother to say goodbye, he didn't turn back, he didn't stop walking. He slowly advanced towards the gates, which squeaked in the slight wind and light sprinkling rain. Thunder, the ancient roar, a vessel of fear, darkness, and misery advanced across the sky. Joseph just kept walking.

Panchito looked on at his friend until he could no longer see him, and he was already missing him. The wind blew in his ears, telling him to earnestly find shelter before the storm comes. Thunder gave out his warning, and so Panchito quickly grabbed the briefcase, held it tightly against his chest, and ran inside the eerie Castle, which casted a dark, looming shadow, and spoke louder than the thunder, in a voice of businessmen.


	2. Chapter 2

**FINDING CHARLIE BROWN**

Lumière, in his human form, opened the door, he only had to hear the approaching footsteps from outside because the door wasn't that thick to begin with. Lumière was temporarily transferred here while the construction was being built on Beast's Castle. He was told to do the same thing he always did, be the maître d', or the concierge.

The rooster came in, dripping wet and panting like a racing dog. Lumière removed his trench coat. "Stormy weather Monsieur Pistoles?" He said, his French accent showing. Panchito nodded, "Si." he said as the kindhearted Frenchmen put the coat on the coat hanger, and grabbed a black suit jacket that was already on the coat hanger to begin with, and looked like it just came out of Men's Warehouse. "You better hurry in there, they've been waiting all day for you." Lumière said as he handed Panchito the suit jacket.

"All day!" Panchito said as he quickly buttoned the jacket. Lumière nodded as he handed him a black tie. "They can't continue without an ambassador, not that they would listen anyway." Since Panchito wasn't good with ties, Lumière put it on him, tying a Winsor Knot. "What makes you say that?" Panchito said. Lumière finished tying the tie and patted it out of habit. "Because they don't care about cartoons like they used to," Lumière said as he led Panchito down the hallway, "it's all live action sitcoms. The only use we have for them is park filler space. Without us here, this place would be nothing but a ghost town." He stopped in front of a large 1876 wooden door that was imported from France. Lumière looked at the rooster again and noticed the briefcase. "Isn't Monsieur McCarthy's?" Lumière asked. Panchito nodded, "Si mi amigo, it most certainly is." The rooster sighed nervously and stared at the door as if it were a monster from one of his childhood nightmares. "Monsieur," Lumière said in a stern but encouraging voice, " regardez-moi." He placed his hand on Panchito's shoulder and turned his body towards him. Lumière got into Panchito's face, his eyes pleading for something, "You are never alone. I will always be there to hold the door open for you. Just promise me that when you close a door, you'll find a window." He pushed the rooster into the door. Panchito slowly opened it, Lumière reached over and held the door open. Panchito smiled, "Muchos gracias senor." He said.

Lumière smiled, "I'll always hold it open."

Panchito nodded his head once and entered the room. Lumière watched him enter and when he was seated he closed the door, walking back down the direction he came with a fulfilled smile on his face.

The room was a blinding white, in the center was a dark gray table. Seated around this table were thirteen chairs. Six each on both long sides, and one at the end of the table closest to the door. This lone seat, was the seat Panchito took. As soon as he entered, the twelve businessmen, who all wore tweed suits, black ties, dark gray fedoras and a black carnation in the breast pocket all looked at the rooster, who, according to them was underdressed. Each man sitting there had a look of death written all over their face, bags formed under the eyes, wrinkles and crevasses sculpted the face into an ancient canyon with a dried up river. All of them had a monotone voice and a skeletal disposition. "Mr. Pistoles," one of them said, whose name was Mr. Jefferies. "you're late." He looked at Panchito with devilish eyes. Everyone else turned as well, giving the same expression, like a well oiled synchronized machine.

"Lo siento Senor Jefferies." Panchito replied as he heaved the briefcase on the table. "What pray tell, is that?" Jefferies asked. "Something that will change your mind about a few things." Panchito said, hoping that what he said was true. "Really?" Hartfield, who sat across Jefferies retorted. "Well, as you know Mr. Pistoles, we are questioning the relevancy of the cartoon characters, and while you were wasting our time, we came up with the answer to that question." Hartfield said. Panchito nodded, "I'd expect something like that from the likes of you Mr. Hartfield."

Hartfield laughed to himself, "Yes," he stood up and walked towards the rooster, his broad shoulders, Lucifer like eyes, and dictator smile told Panchito that Hartfield was not going to be merciful or compassionate. "we'd expect something like that from the likes of you Mr. Pistoles." He reached for the briefcase, turned it towards him and opened it. _Click._ Hartfield smiled, "This must be Joseph's?" He said looking towards the rooster. Panchito nodded. Hartfield slammed the briefcase shut, the force of the locks clashing together echoed throughout the room in a soft ringing sound. "Your decision Mr. Hartfield?" Panchito asked.

"I'm sorry?" Hartfield replied.

"I said, your decision Mr. Hartfield." Panchito repeated.

"Ah yes, we here at Disney find you and your fellow brethren obsolete." Hartfield said.

"Obsolete?" Panchito asked, not really taking the information in. "Yes Mr. Pistoles," it was Hoover, who sat next to him. "we find that the public doesn't want you around anymore," His voice was the only sympathetic tone in the room. "it's just the changing times is all." Panchito nodded, feeling disappointed and betrayed. He looked on the wall and saw a very small portrait of a smiling Walt Disney when he was about fifty-three. "What am I going to do?" Panchito asked himself, burying his head in his hands as he silently began to cry his eyes out. The progress of taking things to the next level, the hope of reintroducing him and his friends to the masses now left Panchito's mind. All that remained was the chilling thought of Disney becoming shitty sitcoms, with stupid puns, seven actors with no acting skills portraying dry, lifeless, mundane, cliché characters on shows that have no plot, no story, and zero creativity, three writers who love repeating themselves, a green screen, two cameras, a terrible lyricist, and re-used set after re-used set after re-used set. The same exact thought came to mind when Panchito thought about the films. "The only thing that is being produced," Panchito whispered, "is businessmen creativity."

"I'm sorry I'm afraid not all of us heard that, can you speak up a little louder please?" Jefferies asked.

Panchito raised his head, upon which rivers formed, he stood up from his chair and placed his foot on the table and began walking towards Jefferies, who just looked at him with a smug smile. "Can you please repeat yourself Mr.-" Jefferies said before Panchito grabbed his collar and hoisted him up off the ground. His eyebrows began to furrow, his eyes making constant eye contact with Jefferies. "The only thing that is being produced here is businessmen creativity!" Panchito shouted to the top of his lungs, not caring if the whole world knew it. He let go of Jefferies and turned towards Mr. Hartfield who was still standing. He walked across the table, putting his weight on every step he took making the table creak and bend a bit. Panchito got into Hartfield's face."I don't care if we're not being used, and I really don't care if we disappear forever but never, ever say that we're obsolete. Ever!"

"Well you are Mr. Pistoles." Hartfield said, "You and every single one of your friends."

"Does that include the mouse?" The rooster said.

Hartfield laughed, like a mastermind who is about to kill the hero with his death ray, "We killed that bastard years ago! The only thing left is what you see on that statute out front." Panchito jumped down from the table, grabbed the briefcase, holding it close, it was the last thing he could trust. Hartfield laughed. "The truth is Mr. Pistoles, we don't care about any of you, we just care about what makes us money." Panchito nodded, "I spoke the truth then." He said.

"Pack your things, and tell the others, you will have three days before the extermination." Jefferies said. Panchito stopped and turned, "Extermination?"

"Yes, we've talked it over. The best way to eliminate you would be to physically do it." Jefferies said. Hoover smiled, "It will be quick and painless." The rooster shook his head, "If I die," he said walking towards the table, "I don't want it to be painless. I want it to be a torture chamber." He looked around the room seeing emotionless faces. "Why is that Mr. Pistoles?" Jefferies asked. Panchito looked over, "Because you pompous prick, if it is painful then perhaps you'll find the soul you lost to imperial business you fucking soulless bastard!" He walked over to him, if he had his pistols right now he would blow Jefferies' brains out, but he didn't complying with park rules and regulations. "If we die then we'll become martyrs of innocence. So go ahead bring the fire, the rain, commit arson, shoot me, hogtie, gag, rig an explosive to my chest see if I give a fuck. I won't! I won't because death will be the only way to for you to see what you had. A chance to change the world again! To inspire people with imagination!"

"We're already doing that with our new programs." Hartfield interrupted.

Panchito laughed, turned around and made a scissor motion with his hands as if he was cutting the air. "Cookie cutter senor, they're all cookie cutter! You are like Kebbler. You might as well buy that too, you've bought everything else." Hartfield grabbed Panchito's hair and picked him up from the table. "Hey, what are you doing!" The rooster cried in protest. Hartfield walked him to the door, opened it, and placed him outside. "You have three days." He shut the door forcefully like a vault door that would never open again. Panchito submitted to his emotions and let his head hit the door, he stayed there for several minutes, disposing of all the tears he carried.

Lumière looked over and saw his friend standing up against the door, he walked down the hallway with a fatherly posture and a weighted step. "What's wrong mon ami?" Lumière said walking up to Panchito. "They're going to kill us Senor Lumière. They're going to kill us." Lumière smiled a bit, he wasn't the least bit worried, "They would never do that Panchito! Don't you think you're being a little bit paranoid?" He said. The rooster shook his head, "Normally I would say so, but the way they looked at me. You should've seen them Lumière, they were like devils in business suits." Panchito turned towards his friend, eyes pleading for some kind of understanding, "They're souls aren't there anymore. Wherever they went to, it doesn't seem to be anywhere close by."

The door opened and hit Panchito in the side, forcing to fall down. Hartfield stood in the doorway, like a giant about to slay the hunter. He threw the briefcase, as it flew through the air it opened, its contents spilled out onto the floor. The contents fluttered like falling birds landing to rest, peacefully and innocently. Panchito quickly gathered the contents as if it were the only thing that mattered, and it was. Lumière bent down to help him, Hartfield gave the concierge a glace. "Why do you defend an obsolete?" He leaned down in Lumière's face with the smile of the devil, "Are you obsolete Lumière?" Lumière looked at the man and slapped him in the face. "You dare call him obsolete? If anyone it is _you_ who is obsolete!" He stood, and spat as he spoke, his face turning red. "You don't even deserve your position! I may not have known Mr. Disney, but I do know this, if you think that you are a better man than then you are fooling yourself! You talk about obsolete, look at me! I am the most obsolete person in this room, not this poor soul," he pointed towards Panchito. "if anything he is a legacy to a man who believed in something that you no longer believe in."

"Oh," Mr. Hartfield said, "and what my dear French friend is that?"

"That all things are possible." Lumière retorted.

Hartfield smiled and nodded slowly, "And that's why you're obsolete." He said and shut the door.

Panchito stood up and brushed himself off. "Thanks for that." He said. Lumière nodded, "Don't mention it." He looked at the briefcase. "Joseph gave that to you?" Lumière asked. Panchito nodded, "Si, he gave it to me just before he left."

"For the night?" asked Lumière.

Panchito sighed, "I don't know."

The ringing of a vintage telephone, the type that just never really stops and was in that annoying high pitch register. _Ring. Ring. Ring. _"Hold on a moment will you?" Lumière said. "Oh sure, sure, go ahead." Panchito replied as he stepped to the side and let his friend pass.

Panchito stood silent as Lumière entered the adjacent room. He listened in for the conversation. "He's where?" Lumière asked the person on the line. "He what!" He said. Muffled voices. "No, this can't be right, please tell me this isn't true." The sounds of crying, Lumière's tears. Panchito turned and slowly walked into the room.

It was a simple room, nothing fancy, just a rug, a couch, a chair, a dresser, a lamp, and the vintage telephone. Lumière was shaking, his face grew pale as he twisted the telephone cord around his index finger on his right hand. More muffled voices. Lumière began to break down, he stopped twisting his finger and produced a fist, banging it repeatedly into the dresser, as if were in a boxing match with it. Panchito walked over, silently watching his friend talk on the phone. "When did it happen?" Lumière asked. The muffled voice on the phone answered as if the owner was underwater. He was crying too. Panchito shifted his weight from his right and left foot and swayed in a back and forth motion, eager to know what the conversation was about. _"Why is he crying like this?" _The rooster thought, _"is someone hurt?" _ Lumière nodded, biting his lip, struggling to say words, "Don't worry, it's going to be okay, we'll get through this together alright?" Gunshots in the background. Screaming. The clutching of a chest, the falling of a body. Lumière's eyes widened, "Monsieur Duck!" He shouted. "Are you alright?" Panchito swallowed his saliva, _"Donal', he's hurt, I know it." _His hands became sweaty, and twitched, his natural impulse to grab his pistols, but he remembered the he didn't have them at the moment, they were back at his store on Main Street where he sold old Western type souvenirs. Panchito's eyes landed on the door, he desperately wanted to break a run for it and go to his friend's aide, but something in his gut told him to stay and listen. Lumière's face was horror stricken. The crackling sound of someone fiddling around with a phone. "Donald are you there?" Lumière asked. A pause. Donald spoke softly. Lumière nodded and quickly looked around for a pen and pencil. He saw one on the table. He looked at Panchito, who nodded and quickly handed it to him. _"He's writing his will, last words, or something." _Panchito said, his head coming up with excuses for why Lumière would need pen and paper. Feverishly, Lumière scribbled down a quick note and shoved it in his pocket. Donald spoke again, Lumière clutched his chest as if he were suffering from an asthma attack and fell to the floor. Panchito leaned over and gently caught him, as Lumière breathed slowly as he fell to the floor, Panchito followed him, kneeling beside him, watching tears down from Lumière's face. "I'm sorry." Lumière said to Donald. Panchito couldn't hear the words, but he knew that his American friend was in pain, and judging by the sounds of gunshots, he knew that the duck had been shot. Panchito's eyes looked at Lumière for an answer, a hope, anything that could tell him that Donald was okay. Lumière stopped crying, "Donald?" He asked, hoping that the duck was still on the other line with him. "Donald, are you still there?" He said again, this time sitting up more. Silence. Dead space. Lumière stood and hung up the phone. Panchito was still in the kneeling position, looking up at Lumière, waiting earnestly for him to speak.

"That was Donald Duck." Lumière said. Panchito slowly stood, "Joseph McCarthy is dead." The rooster shook his head and bit his lip, looking down at the floor trying to mask his grief. "Joseph is dead?" Panchito asked, softly and weakly. Lumière nodded, "I'm sorry, I know you were close." Panchito nodded slowly and closed his eyes, forcing his tears out. He fell to the floor slowly, landing on his knees as if submitting to death. "So those were the gunshots I heard?" he asked, opening his eyes and dragging the briefcase over to him, moving his hand down it's sides and faces. "Not exactly." Lumière said, and kneeled down to the rooster's eye level. "It seems that Donald Duck is-"

A knock from the front door echoed into the hallway and into the room. "If you'll excuse me." Lumière said. He stood up and walked out of the room and down the hallway, leaving Panchito to himself.

The rooster sighed and resituated himself on the floor, sitting with pretzel style. He cried, each tear he wiped away from his arms, he sniffled. "Where did the light go?" He asked. "Where did the hope go?" He looked at the briefcase, picked it up and put it in his lap. "Where did you go Joseph?" He moved his fingers along the crevasses and grooves of the briefcase's hard leather. Feeling everything from the faces to the brass metal hinges that made it open. He closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly, remembering all the days spent with his friend at the coffee shop. The long hours of pool and card games. The rambling conversations about brandy, wine, and women at four am on Tuesdays when they were both completely stoned. The road trip they took two years during summer vacation to the Rocky Mountains, listening to old mix tapes and Frank Sinatra all the way there and back. They day they first met, eyes innocent, hearts open and free as Joseph presented him to Walt Disney. Walt's unmistakable smile and calming voice, "He'll do just fine Joe." All of the years, the good times, the bad times, they were always there for each other, Joseph and Panchito. The animator and his creation, an inseparable friendship. Panchito stopped his hand on the metal hinge, he opened his eyes, placed the other hand on the opposite hinge and clicked it open. He didn't open the briefcase, he didn't want to. He was afraid that there would be something in there that would change his life, he didn't want his life to change. He wanted his life back. To the way things used to be.

The sounds of six webbed wet feet came running down the hall. Panchito could guess who they were just by the sounds of their footsteps. Huey, Dewey, and Louie entered, dripping wet and weeping to high heaven, running from the world that just revealed to them it's dark face that hiding behind an innocent mask. Huey, much like his red shirt, was bleeding from several cuts to the head. It looked like he had been attacked by a panther. His shirt was ripped to pieces, his left eye was swollen slightly, and his head, aside from the cuts was throbbing with a fierce headache and was spinning like a roulette wheel. Still he managed to run towards Panchito following his brothers, who were both pretty banged up. Louie dawned a few scratches here and there, but nothing major. Dewey was the worst though, he was bruised like Louie and cut up and beaten like Huey but Dewey had a bullet in his neck. He wasn't shot, there was no visible blood. The bullet was embedded into his neck, as if the attacker cut a piece of skin off and replaced it with a bullet. His neck was killing him and Dewey felt like he was going to pass out, but he trudged on, running towards the rooster.

Panchito looked up, saw them, and became speechless. He willingly embraced the crying ducks who were burying their faces in him, each of them wanting an embrace, a calming word, anything to get their mind off the hell they just been through. "Ninos!" Panchito said tears forming again, "What happened to you, who did this?" He asked, wanting to know so that way he could kill the bastard. Louie, who had the least amount of damage backed away from Panchito and looked at him, "We were playing in the living room at Unca Donald's house." He said, "All of a sudden, we heard gunshots from across the street. We all looked out and there was a man in a black suit with a g-g-g," he stuttered, he couldn't finish the word or the sentence and he began to cry, as he walked back towards Panchito again. "No, no, no, no," he said quickly and quietly like an affectionate parent would do to calm down a child, "there, there, your safe now. It's going to be alright, you'll see."

Huey looked up at Panchito, eyes pleading for some type of justice, some type of answer to this madness. "Is this a nightmare?" He asked between the tears and the pain. "I hope so." Panchito answered as he held the three ducks tightly in his arms, not wanting to let go. Panchito wanted to absorb their wounds and bruises, soak up all the tears and sadness, and say to them that yes it indeed was a nightmare, that all they had to do was close their eyes and they would be safe in their rooms, sleeping in their beds, but Panchito knew that he couldn't do any of that. The longer he held them in his arms, the more he thought. _"I am going to kill whoever did this." _He took a deep shaky breath, and kissed each of them on the forehead, stroking their backs and whispering to them, "This will never happen again." In his head he added, _"I will put a stop to this. No one hurts my family." _The rooster opened his eyes and smiled at each of them, trying his best to raise their spirits. "Come on," he said letting go of them, "let's see if we can whip us up some grub eh?" He laughed, trying to mask his anger and thoughts. The boys nodded slowly, their eyes still downcast, their faces still fearful. "Oh come now!" Panchito said, once again trying his best to change the subject. "I know you three are always hungry." He shouted, attempting to be energetic and spontaneous. In truth they were hungry, for they haven't eaten anything since noon. "Yeah," Louie said, "come on guys, let's get something to eat, to take our mind off things."

Panchito smiled, "That's the spirit!" He said standing up. Lumière stood in the doorway with fresh blankets for each of the three ducklings. "I thought you boys could use these." He said. The three ducks looked over and smiled. Huey and Louie walked over, greeting Lumière with a handshake and a smile with Panchito in tow. Dewey fell behind and staggered a bit. His head grew dizzy and his vision blurred, he took a step and started to black out. "Um, fellas, I don't feel so good." He said. Panchito turned, "Are you-" he started to say. Dewey was on the ground, face first. Motionless. The rooster quickly rushed over and kneeled beside him, seeing the problem. The bullet was deeper into Dewey's neck. In truth the problem was worse. Unbeknownst to Dewey, the attacker shot another bullet in the exact same place, it went upwards in a diagonal direction towards the brain. The bullet was lodged in the brainstem, slowly but surely cracking the brain stem in two. The bullet on the exterior was to cover everything up, make it look like a minor issue, but Panchito didn't know this.

Panchito gently turned the duck over and held him up from the ground with his right arm, cradling him like a babe. "Dewey," Panchito said "can you hear me?" The duck lay still, his eyes fixated upwards. "Dewey!" The rooster screamed, tears forming again, he shook him, believing that it could do something. "Don't die on me!" He screamed. "Don't you dare you hear me!" His voice bellowed, his heart angry at the world. Huey and Louie watched in disbelief as their brother lay dying. Their knees grew weak, they shook with fear and were about to start crying again when Lumière ushered them out and closed the door. "Come," Lumière said, "let's get something to eat huh?" He walked them down the hallway, both of them shaking nervously, both of them wanting to give up all hope. Lumière wore a face of sadness and a feeling in his gut told him that he should closed the door thirty seconds earlier, saving Huey and Louie from see their brother die before their eyes. _"They lost so much already,"_ Lumière thought _"there's no need for more tears." _He led them into the kitchen and prepared them nice hot soup and tea.

Panchito buried his head in Dewey's chest, he wept and shook his head, "I'm sorry Dewey, I'm so sorry!" He breathed, trying to control his breath and slow down his heart rate which was racing a million miles a minute. _"It's official now, the bastard who placed this bullet will die tonight." _Panchito lifted his head, he didn't bother to wipe away his tears this time, he just let them fall on Dewey's chest. "He will know the pain, he will know the grief, and he will know my pistol barrel when I shove it down his throat." Panchito said, slowly setting Dewey to the ground. He stood up and looked at the duckling that he considered to be like one of three sons he never known but always wanted. "I'm sorry Dewey," he said bowing his head, remembering that the duck always liked to hear stories, particularly the ones he told. _"There was once a duck named Dewey who had two brothers name Huey and Louie._" He leaned down a final time and kissed Dewey's head before closing his eyes. _"One day they were playing a game of hide and seek at Donald's house. Dewey was it." _Panchito walked out of the room and into the hallway, walking slowly towards the door. _"He counted to ten and they played a round. Huey was underneath a bed, and easy to find, but Louie took a bit of effort. With Huey's help, Dewey searched all the places Louie would usually hide, the closet, the car, the garage, the attic, the roof, the next door neighbor, Pluto's doghouse, in the old oak tree by the lake, the cemetery, the stables where all the horses were kept, even the garbage cans. But Louie couldn't be found. They searched all day, high and low, and just as they were about to give up Louie came walking down the road with a smile on his face. "Where were you hiding?" Dewey asked. "Yeah, you had us worried sick man, don't you know we've been looking for you all day!" Huey replied. "Sorry fellas, guess I lost track of time." Louie said. "Well where were you hiding?" Dewey asked again. "The ice cream shop!" Louie exclaimed with excitement."_ Panchito smiled, his stories always ended with one of the boys, or all of them going somewhere, and when he was finished he would take him there to wherever it was they went to in the story. They did the simple things, like ice cream shops and pizza parlors, things like that but on occasion Panchito would end the story with a different place, a far off place, some place they've never been before. One time Panchito took them to Rio de Janerio to visit Jose via his magic serape which they took as mode of transport. Another time they went to Indonesia, and another time they went to Germany. They even went to the Aortic Circle. "Every adventure has a story to it", Panchito would often say to them, and they loved him just as much as they did Donald, and he loved them back just as much. But he knew this time there wasn't going to be a trip to Brazil or to the ice cream shop. Instead there was to be three funerals. One for Joseph, one for Dewey, and one for the murderer, and Panchito would show up to all three of them. The later one just to spit on his grave. He was praying that there wasn't going to be a fourth, but ever since he heard those gunshots in the background noise of the telephone, Panchito felt that what he thinking was true, that Donald was hurt, injured by a bullet wound, but Panchito knew that Donald had a strong will and could hold on long enough for the rooster to see him, at least, that's on what Panchito wanted to believe.

Placing his hand on the door, Panchito sighed slowly, thinking about what he was going to do. Just then Lumière came up from behind him, with Huey and Louie standing next to them in their pajamas. "Monsieur," Lumière said. Panchito turned around and saw them. "They want you to tuck them in." Lumière said. Panchito nodded and Lumière lead them upstairs, far away from the downstairs guest bedroom.

The three ducks got settled into the nice big comfy California King sized bed. Panchito pulled the cover sheet and the comforter to their chins and kissed them gently on the forehead. Cinderella came in and did the same thing, followed by Lumière. "What if that man comes back and tries to hurt us again?" Huey asked, his voice cracked, scared and worrisome. "Don't worry," Lumière said, "I'll be in here with you the entire night," he pulled up his shirt a little to reveal a gun, "you're going to be just fine." Huey nodded but wasn't convinced. "I can't go to sleep without him." Louie said, crying again, "I miss my brother." He embraced Huey, who tried his best not to cry, but did anyway. Panchito nodded slowly and hugged both of them, "How about a story?" He said. The two ducks nodded. "Make it about Dewey." Louie said. "Yeah," Huey said, "he needs one more adventure." Panchito smiled and nodded, "Of course mi hijo."

"So," Panchito said thinking of a story, "once upon a time in far off place there lived three princes. Prince Huey, Prince Louie, and Prince Dewey, and they ruled together justly and fairly. Well, one day, a letter came to the royal court. The jester," he pointed to himself, "that's me, read it aloud. Your Highnesses," he bowed, acting out his role. Huey and Louie laughed, and for a moment, the world didn't matter. "There's a dragon attacking the city, the townspeople need your help!" Panchito acted out the dragon, breathing fire and everything. "Don't worry, Prince Dewey said, we'll stop it. So without a second thought the three princes rushed down to the city to find the people in fear and the dragon, who was really very lonely, and just looking for a friend. "Oh!" He said, "it's the same everywhere I go isn't it?" He sat down in the middle of the street, looking sad, his eyes told Prince Dewey so. "What's wrong?" Dewey asked, not keeping his guard down but showing concern. 'I stubbed my toe and it hurts, so I started screaming and,' the dragon looked around, 'this happened.' Dewey bravely walked up to the dragon and said, 'Do you need a friend?' The dragon looked down at the Prince and smiled, 'You're one of the Royal Princes aren't you?' He said. Dewey nodded. 'Yes, I am.' He said. 'Well,' the dragon lowered his head and looked Dewey straight in the eye." Panchito extended his hands, as if he were poking Huey and Louie in the eye. The two ducks smiled and blocked it with their hands. Panchito smiled and continued. "In that case,' said the dragon, 'do you want to go for a ride?' Dewey smiled, not really trusting the dragon. 'Why?' He said. 'Because,' replied the dragon, 'you were the first person to ask if I needed help. So, you guys want a ride?' He asked turning to all three of them. Dewey turned to his brothers who said, 'You go on ahead Dewey, he asked you.' Dewey nodded and got on the dragon's head. He then took off into the sky, and with the dragon gone, the townspeople cheered 'Hurrah! The kingdom is saved, the vicious dragon is gone!' and Huey and Louie were praised as heroes. But they didn't pay any attention to all that, they just looked up at the sky and watched the dragon take their brother for a joyride into the clouds, with just enough time to be back for dinner." Panchito finished the story and Huey and Louie smiled, situating themselves in the covers. Panchito smiled, ruffled their hair a bit and kissed them one final time. "You see ninos," he said, "that's where Dewey is, he's flying with a dragon, going on a joyride. He'll be back tomorrow." The two ducks sighed and closed their eyes, pretending that the rooster's words were true, and for a moment actually believed it. Panchito got off the bed and exited the room, with Lumière following him and Cinderella turned out the lights.

Cinderella slightly closed the door and looked at Panchito. "You know they're going to have to grow up eventually." Panchito looked at her with stern eyes, "They just lost their brother," he said, "I just lost a son."

"They're not your-" Cinderella started to say. Panchito cut her off.

"They are like my sons! I would do anything for them and if that means making them believe for just one night that the world is still alright, that nothing can hurt them, then that's what I'll do!" Panchito said harshly, being careful to be too loud. "But I don't expect you to know that," he said, "I don't expect you to know anything expect that I'm going to fix this."

"Fix what?" Cinderella asked. "Are you going to avenge Dewey's death like your back in Mexico being a vigilante again? The world doesn't work like that Panchito."

"It does when you want it to." Panchito said, giving her the evil eye.

"Revenge doesn't bring anything good Panchito." Cinderella said, trying to reason with the rooster. Panchito sighed. "What if I don't want it to bring anything good?" He said, "What if I want it to bring suffering? To bring hate? To the man who did this? I know it's wrong of me to wish ill will on anybody, and believe me normally I wouldn't, but not this time." He paused and looked up into her eyes with what he deduced to be sympathy or forgiveness or perhaps both. "This time I have to, not just for me, but for Huey, Louie, Donald, Joseph, and for everyone who believed in Dewey. I believed in him, I _do_ believe in him, and I'm not giving up on him."

Cinderella nodded and embraced him, "Promise you'll come back safe?" She said.

Panchito mimicked her nod, "I can't promise that." He said and let go. He turned to Lumière and shook his hand, "Keep the door open for me will you?" He asked. Lumière nodded and quickly embraced his friend, as if he were never going to see him again. A tear fell down his cheek, "Always." The concierge said. The two friends let go of each other.

Panchito walked back towards the door. Placing his hand on the wood he opened the door, looked on onto the rain and sighed before disembarking, "There once was a duck named Dewey..."


End file.
